


This Isn't Boy Scout Camp

by iamlordmoldyshorts



Series: Let Go [3]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: (Heaven Forbid), Gen, There is Some Foul Language, They Aren't Babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamlordmoldyshorts/pseuds/iamlordmoldyshorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'd seen many things in my run as Sergeant of Brecon Beacons...but this just took the cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't Boy Scout Camp

**Author's Note:**

> So here's another follow up to Let Go, this one in the Sergeants perspective. Since we never get into his head, we don't even know if this is OC...so I dun wanna hear it. xD
> 
> Make sure to read Let Go first or this will make no sense what-so-ever.
> 
> Uhhh...I have no one to dedicate this one to, so I'll simply say that I don't own Alex Rider. Shame. :( Also, I'm pretty sure my title is an indirect reference to Holes...but don't quote me on that.

I'm a bit of a hot-head. I've always known this. It's one of the reasons I can keep my men in line. I control my anger excellently and only lose my temper in the direst of emergencies…but don't tell any of my units that. I have a rep to uphold, after all.

The very first time they told me I'd have a teenager at my camp, I blew a gasket.

"Brecon Beacons isn't Boy Scout Camp," I screamed at my phone.

No one responded. Of course not. There was no one on the other line. Blunt had already hung up. That bastard. I yelled at my phone a bit longer before sitting down, taking a deep breath, and opening up some files on my computer. I had to find a spot for the brat, after all. I let my sadistic side take over as I examined the profiles of all my men. Units A, C, F and H were off base. B, G, and J were much too…well…I don't want to say kind, but there we are. Looking through each units psychological evaluations, I put all my deviousness into my decision. Take that Alan Blunt.

This kid got to Brecon Beacons and didn't even look scared. I placed him with K-Unit and named him Cub. I hadn't wanted to give him a name at all…but knew I had to. I made it as demeaning as possible; after all…he's just a baby. I knew that Wolf would follow orders. I simply made them as vague as possible and got out of the cabin before my grin split my face. I went back to my office and kicked up my feet. Placing my hands behind my head, I debated how long it would be till Cub gave up and left.

* * *

Cub surprised everyone. Myself included. I received daily reports about his progress. Just when he was reaching an acceptable SAS level, he was pulled out of camp. I sat back, opened up a beer, and breathed a sigh of relief. I wouldn't have to ever have to deal with children at my camp again.

* * *

The second time they told me I'd have a teenager at my camp, I was much more calm. Knowing I was getting my child prodigy back, I sent K-Unit into the field and placed the kid with a unit that would tolerate him a little bit better. I explained the situation to Wasp and sent him away to await Cubs arrival.

Cub came to Brecon Beacons a second time as a hollow shell. I've seen that look before but never in a face that young. He just stared. He hadn't knocked to enter, he didn't respond verbally or physically to my instructions and when I dismissed him he just turned and walked out the door, into the rain. The second he was out of earshot I had an intense internal debate. Should I kick him out before he hurt himself? Should I call Blunt and tell him that this just wasn't acceptable? Should I call Cub back in and tell him that his attitude wasn't acceptable? Simply not fitting of a SAS soldier? I sat heavily in my chair and resignedly picked up my phone.

* * *

I hung up in shock. Cub was stuck here. Not even units were stuck here…but Cub couldn't leave. This realization struck me as strange but the heads of MI6 weren't explaining where their heads were at. Didn't Cubs parents have anything to say about this?

* * *

I got my report from Wasp the next day. What the hell did Cub think he was up to? Ignoring his units' night hike? Sitting and lazing about all day? Sleeping through lessons? My thoughts flashed to his eyes from the day before. Had Cub given up? That's not a mindset befitting of a member of the SAS. I decided Cub would need a little talking to.

* * *

I should have known that yelling about the situation wouldn't do anything. Cub didn't even pretend to give a shit while I verbally assaulted him about his laziness and incompetence. I knew soldiers would be trembling at the knees if I had given them this speech in this particular tone of voice. But Cub just sat there. He didn't even look at me. I left with a parting shot of, "You can't just waltz in here like you own the place, Cub. If you don't get your act together, I'm calling Blunt and telling him you refuse to cooperate!"

* * *

I simply didn't know what to do. Again, Cub had thrown me for a loop. The feeling of confusion was pissing me off. I'm simply not used to it. I decided to call Blunt and put the matter into his hands.

* * *

"I don't know what to do with a fucked up kid. You handle it!"

Yelling at Blunt is just so satisfying. I can't help but feel like no one else does so. I consider it my God given right to question the actions of the higher-ups. It's great stress release. I recommend it some time. I vaguely realized I was yelling the situation to the man on the other end of the phone. Reaching the end of my tether, I stopped and tried to catch my breath.

"Are you quite done yet?" Blunt asked on the other end of the phone.

I fumed.

"Put Alex on the phone."

Yeah, like I could get him here. I sent my secretary out to get him anyway. I knew he wouldn't come. I wasn't born yesterday. Cub had given up. He wasn't going to talk to the people who made him do so. Five minutes later, Cub still hadn't arrived. I told Blunt that we were searching for his unit and that he should call back later. It wasn't till later that I realized I had just covered for the kid. Christ, what was wrong with me?

* * *

Blunt called back three more times and we paged Cub three more times. It was like speaking to a brick wall. I knew he was undermining my influence with the rest of the men, but I felt like a proud parent anyway. Who knew that there was someone else in the world that got his jollies by pissing off those MI6 bastards? My respect for the situation and for Cub as a person grew.

* * *

The next day, MI6 invaded my camp. Well, somewhat. Blunt landed in the helicopter and stormed into my office. I had to hide my grin as he asked me where I could find Cub. I pointed him in the right direction and assigned Wasp to take him there. I sat back in my office and started chuckling as I let the situation flow over me. Cub wouldn't do anything for Blunt. Everyone knew it. Maybe Blunt had controlled the kid in the past, but everyone could see that the head of MI6 had no hold over the teen anymore.

* * *

I never saw Cub after that. Wasp told me that he told Blunt to fuck off and then ran out the door. I burst out laughing. Pretty sure I scared the crap out of my soldier. I knew that kids like Cub were one of a kind. I also knew that if asked, I wouldn't bother my soldiers to look for him. There weren't many people in the world that had my respect…but there was at least one kid.

I nodded my head and got back to running my camp.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. I didn't exactly know where to go with it. =\ I figured the hidden proud parent type isn't something that most people would associate with the hardened Sergeant of Brecon Beacons. Questions? Comments? Concerns? Concrit? All is welcome! Feel free to review!
> 
> ~Moldy


End file.
